


Hannibal Breaks

by KristenRoth



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, unexpected ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12943620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristenRoth/pseuds/KristenRoth
Summary: During 'Hannibal', Clarice loses herself for a moment.





	Hannibal Breaks

Mindless hours of typing on a computer screen and receiving absolutely nothing in return can cause one’s mind to stray in different directions, some of which may not have, as a rule, been thought about in any other situation. Perhaps even disgust or humiliation would have been felt on another occasion. Who can say for sure? But Clarice would have been quite mortified if anyone had been spying on her one afternoon in ‘Hannibal’s House.’

The search on most online auctions had been unsuccessful (it would be another six hours before her brain unfroze enough to try e-Bay). And now, with the resources seemingly desert dry, Clarice had naught to do but stare at her walls, and if she wanted to exhaust herself further, she could study up even more on Lecter’s past, but that seemed almost beyond tediously dull and to the point of desperation.

The very same doctor’s face seemed to be mocking her, peering down scornfully from his height on her board. Clarice purposefully moved her computer so she couldn’t see Doctor Lecter’s blue contact-lensed eyes, and continued on typing his name into various sites. Of course they pulled back absolutely nothing.

“Damn it,” she scowled, typing with speed and some strength to where her keyboard snapped back at her.

The haunting silence that echoed back seemed to jeer at her, and so, angered, she pressed the PLAY button on her rather giant stereo. Doctor Lecter’s voice filled the silence, and she settled back into her chair and mind numbing boredom. This had to be the tenth time she listened to the tape of their conversations back in Baltimore, but she never tired of hearing them.

“…don’t you? You think if Catherine lives you won’t wake up in the dark ever again…to that awful screaming of the lambs?” His intonation was approximately restful.

Clarice didn’t question how Chilton had gotten THESE tapes…she had figured that Chilton would sink so low to do something along those lines and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t stop.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she heard herself reply in a hushed and teary voice. All the memory from that night was fresh, even now.

“Thank you, Clarice. Thank you.”

His voice was so soft, like how authors wrote voices in romance books. Doctor Lecter was a harsh contrast, however, to the politically correct and law abiding (usually) characters in fluff books. He was the kind of man one would write about in Vampire Erotica, not Historical Romances.

Clarice shook her head hard enough to give herself a headache. What was this new side of thinking of Doctor Lecter as a romantic figure, however fallaciously? These long hours in a basement had to be messing with her mind, turning things around and warping her good sense of judgment, reducing it to babble.

“God, you’re so tired Clarice,” she told herself, stretching back in her chair to where she was afraid she’d fall over and out. “Your fucking mind has officially taken a hike. Look at you, you’re talking to yourself. Ugh.” Heated, she came back to the computer from her stretch and found that when she changed positions, Doctor Lecter’s eyes were on her again.

Clarice remembered the conversations without trying, she realized as she switched the tape over to the first in her pile. It was superfluous to listen to these tapes.

“‘Hester Mofet?’ ‘The Rest of Me?’ ‘Miss The Rest of Me?’ Meaning that you rented that garage,” her sharp and accented voice barked. Clarice mouthed the words along with the tape.

A loud sound, somewhere between a bang and a slide filled the room and Clarice saw in her mind that food carrier shooting out next to her. Deep into the cell, she couldn’t see him, but knew he was there, looking perfectly right back at her. It demoralized her, but didn’t make her angry.

“Thank you,” she said, and then Doctor Lecter’s ideal voice cut into the scope. Clarice remembered the tingle she had felt; the slippery spikes of energy that delimited on provocation. She still felt that electric pulse, still craved it and that was why it wasn’t enough to merely recollect. She had to listen and revive.

Somewhere between his first and second word, Clarice felt her belly slide to beneath her feet. She was afraid that if she looked down, she’d see it there, slimy and hot, staring up at her with accusation. Clarice was also afraid of her own body’s response to his words, the dampening between her thighs and the continuation of the exciting thrill that ran through her.

Energy streaming all the way through her, arousal dampening places that she should be horrified to allow Doctor Lecter to stir, Clarice was a fidgety picture in the darkness of ‘Hannibal’s House.’ Her better judgment frayed, Clarice kicked her legs up onto her desk to allow…those places to dry, hitting items over in her doing so.

“I need a break,” Clarice sighed to herself when she reflected on how ridiculous this was. Here she was, legs perched up on her desk, Hannibal ‘The Cannibal’ Lecter playing over her stereo. The thought of actually being stimulated by her surroundings caused a laugh.

“…what I want is a window where I can see a tree, or even water…” Doctor Lecter told her.

“Hear hear,” Clarice grumbled, looking around and the starkness of her ‘office.’ It was so impersonal and claustrophobic, piled with items and photographs…the crime scene photos were in the other room, else she would have been disgusted with herself being aroused in the face of such brutality.

Clarice’s attempts to calm her thrilled body down were not in avail. The wetness between her legs was still there, and increasing as she listened to Lecter’s voice.

“You are so crazy, girl,” she heard herself say, and was surprised when it turned out to be her own current voice and not on the speakers. She hadn’t even realized she was speaking. “Letting some cannibal turn you on.”

her mischievous little mind argued back, reminding her of the pleasant tingle down below.

“Fuck, I’m not going to argue that.” And she wasn’t; the tone of Lecter’s voice combined with the swelling she was feeling was too good to stop. Clarice had better get home or she’d embarrass the hell out of herself soon.

Her dirty mind wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed.

“I have no intention of ‘taking care’ of anything, you pervert,” Clarice steamed.

Clarice would admit to that much. Damn annoying sex drive, Clarice cursed. But her pantyhose were soaking. It made sense to take them off and put them in her purse. It would be hell to walk in them.

Bending over and somehow maneuvering in her seat to where she could remove the nylons, Clarice threw them across her desk and to her purse. Upon settling back into her chair again, she realized what a mistake she had made. This lack of a layer of clothes left her easily accessible to what her body was tempting her to do.

“Fuck,” she said, noticing the way her nipples poked through the blouse she wore. Even her somewhat thick bra didn’t stop it.

the thing Clarice felt like calling Satan told her. 

“Damn,” she growled, putting her feet with exaggerated point onto her desk again.

 

“Take a what,” Clarice snapped at herself. “A masturbation break? Not likely,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Clarice could see Doctor Lecter still staring at her, but it looked like his face had changed from taunting to encouraging.

Snorting, Clarice made to leave. There was some logic in that. 

“No one will know?”

the voice finalized. Clarice sat still for a few moments longer, contemplating. If she took care of it, maybe it’d get out of her system. And it WOULD feel damn good, she didn’t doubt that.

Finally, without thinking about it for fear she’d change her mind, Clarice stripped from her blouse and hiked up her skirt, shoes dropping to land on the other side of the desk. Her face was upturned to the ceiling, too mortified to look at herself. A large blush stood out on her face as her fingers crept into the seam of her panties, but a whimper emitted from her throat nonetheless. Christ, she hadn’t done this for twelve years at least.

Her left leg drifted dreamily to the side at her probing fingers. Clarice’s head felt filled with blood, tipped upwards as it was, and so she lowered it but kept it even with the wall, still not looking at herself. Doctor Lecter’s expression had without a doubt changed. He looked like he was aroused himself, and she allowed herself to think about what it might be like to fuck him.

“Shit,” she gasped when her wet pointer finger lightly grazed her clitoris. Her ass scooted in the seat to allow her fingers more access. “Oh,” she mewed, unconsciously bucking upwards towards her fingers. They moved with frenzied haste now, bringing her closer and closer towards a climax.

Clarice had never been this aroused and found it nearly shocking how quick she was moving to an orgasm. Usually it took some time, involving a lot of fondling and thought, but now all it took was Lecter’s damn eyes. She was going to come soon, she could feel it.

“Ohh, fuck,” she groaned, lifting her head up to peer at the photo of Doctor Lecter.

She wondered again what he’d be like in bed. Previous thoughts had analyzed that he’d be slow and soft, building up to heavy thrusting. Her eager fingers stretched her lips, yearning to get deeper and deeper until she was finger fucking herself. Clarice could imagine Doctor Lecter pounding away at her, and she shivered, thrusting her fingers just a little bit further up.

“OH! You sick fucker…” Clarice had no notion that she was talking to herself, and least of all that it was directed at him. “Fuck me,” she gasped, wrenching almost violently in her seat. Her low and eager moans were turning into aggressive swearing and screeching. “Hannibal…please….faster,” Clarice shrieked mindlessly, hand working unbelievably fast.

Clarice let out a peal of moans that sounded suspiciously like laughter, and under her breath she murmured, “You…crazy fucking bastard….Christ! Yeeesss!!”

Her orgasm was building up, starting from her toes with such intensity she could barely see the Doctor’s picture in front of her. Her eyes were blurring and her moans were growing louder and louder…until she was screaming.

“HANNIBAL!!!”

Flailing away, unaware of anything except the fact that she was coming and coming, completely hysterical and screaming at the top of her lungs, and she could see Doctor Lecter looking down at her the whole time.

And then, when it was over, she dropped, depleted, in her chair and noted how loud she had been screaming. The phone at her left started ringing, and she jumped for it, knowing without a doubt that they had heard her screaming and might have even heard ‘Hannibal’ being tossed around in the rapture of a climax.

“Starling,” she said into the receiver, cursing the heavy breathing she was producing.

“Oh, good!! I was worried- I heard screaming. Are you all right, Clarice?” It was one of her friends, Matt, upstairs in Behavioral Sciences.

“Yeah, I saw a mouse,” she improvised quickly.

“Oh.” A deep chuckle filled her ear but he obviously believed her. “Hey, listen, I need you to bring up the dates list that you have? You know, the one with your birthdate and anything else important for the Lecter case?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right up.” Clarice noted that her breathing had slowed.

“Great.”

Hanging up the phone she began to redress, finding her blouse on the floor next to her, only a little wrinkled, and she knew her shoes were on the other side of her desk. She went for them, but the phone rang again. Picking it up, she said:

“I’m on the way up…I’ll be right there,” she told Matt, looking at the clock and slipping her shoes on.

“Going where, Clarice?” The voice was not Matt’s.

“Doctor Lecter?”


End file.
